


Grey Skies

by White_Noise



Series: The Other Life of Quentin Holmes, Quartermaster [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Q is a Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Noise/pseuds/White_Noise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes is involved in every part of the British Government. But this breach in National Security may not just destroy the Head of MI6, but claim the oldest Holmes as a victim. Of course, it doesn't help that when not guiding his Double O, Q is enjoying annoying his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grey Skies

**Author's Note:**

> To my beta Cathryn, thank you for such a quick turn around. I know I can always count on you. And also for the title suggestions. You know it is my weakness. 
> 
> Also, to my Q. You know who you are dear.
> 
> So this one took a little effort to write. Mycroft it an interesting character but it was a challenge writing from his Point of View. I wanted to show him as a protective brother and yet, still a kickass person. I hope I got it right.

"Where are you?" Q asked, his fingers skipping across his keyboard as he changed the cameras over, looking for his agent in the footage of the subway.

"Take a wild guess Q." Bond snapped back, clearly agitated by the chase Silva was putting him through.

Q looked up at the main screen, the one showing Silva's new look. 

"He's in disguise now. He's dressed as a policeman." The Quartermaster commented, staring at the enemies face.

"Of course he is."

Looking to another screen, Q scanned the train line, watching the train, which was carrying both Bond and Silva as it sped through the depths of London.

"Where's he going?" He muttered to himself. "Where's he going?" 

But it was all too clear where he was going.

It seemed, on the other end of the line, Bond had the same idea.

"He's going for M. Tell Tanner. Get her out of there." 

Q nodded to himself and pulled up another screen, typing in a message which he knew Tanner would see. 

_'Silva's escaped. Bond in pursuit. Get M to safety immediately. Q'_

He sent the message through. Hopefully Tanner would be able to reply, to let him know the message had been received and acted upon. 

On second thoughts, there were other agents he could contact. 

Moneypenny had been acting as an aid to Gareth Mallory. She would be at the proceedings too. 

Q reached for his phone. It was his private mobile, his work one having been left on the desk in his new office. Unlocking the keypad, the Quartermaster quickly typed a message of warning. Hopefully if Tanner couldn't do anything, Moneypenny could. Maybe she could even get Mallory out of there. 

Silva had already escaped on Q's watch. He was dammed if he was going to let anything else happen without at least trying to do something. 

Opening the contacts, Q looked down. 

'M, Matt, Mitchell, Moneypenny, Mycroft...' 

Q paused. 

Mycroft....

If there was any going's on in London, Mycroft was well known for being at the very center of it. And what an opportunity this investigation would be. But would Mycroft attend something like this?

Q couldn't help but remember the savage rants M would occasionally direct towards Mycroft, the verbal confrontations between the two and the fallout which Q had been forced to deal with. Mycroft was a Politician. And like all Politician's, he liked to see a rival fall. 

Q bit his bottom lip. The last time he had seen his oldest brother had been the week before. In the month since the attack on the old MI6 building, the oldest Holmes had been in almost constant contact, the incident sending Mycroft's ‘Mother Hen’ instincts into overdrive and almost succeeding in driving Q out of his mind. 

In fact, it was probably the only time when Q would have welcomed one of Sherlock's incidents, just to draw Mycroft's attention away. 

But regardless of what Q thought, Mycroft was still his brother. And he could be in danger. 

Selecting Mycroft's number, Q edited his message and sent it through. 

Now he just hoped that Bond could catch Silva or that someone, anyone, would act on his warnings before it was too late. 

\------

"You'll forgive me for not putting up the bunting. I find it rather difficult to overlook the monumental security breaches and dead operatives for which you are almost single-handedly responsible." 

The voice roused Mycroft Holmes from his thoughts, the government official raising his head to glance across the room at the speaker as the room fell silent. From her place at the head of the room, MP Clair Dowar glanced down at the accused, her painted nails tapping against the folder before her as a small smile played across her painted lips. 

She was a backbencher, a powerless pawn who would never gain a tenth of the ability or respect of the accused. This proceeding would no doubt be her height of power. And she was determined to utilise it to her greatest advantage, making it all about her rather than the massive breach in security.

He may have been sitting through the last twenty minutes of this hearing, listening to this woman talk and the one thing he concluded was that Mycroft Holmes would never have time for someone like her. 

On either side of her, her lackeys watched on, trying to show a united front even as nerves radiated off of all of them. They knew that what they were doing was unprecedented. That their decision would effectively change the way the Secret Service was run. 

In fact, the only one who didn't radiate nerve was the man to Dower's left. Gareth Mallory. One of Mycroft's old allies and a trusted informer.

When MI6 had first come under review with the loss of the hard drive and the deaths of several agents, including the famed Double O Seven, Mycroft had immediately nominated Mallory to conduct the internal investigation into the running of the organisation. And of course, to investigate M's conduct.

But Mycroft would be lying if he said that it was simple professional knowledge that saw him taking an interest in MI6. No, there was a much more private reason for his interest, namely the employment within MI6 of his youngest brother.

Glancing at the accused, Mycroft felt his eyes narrow.

M. Head of MI6. The employer of Quentin Holmes and a serious problem for Mycroft.

The woman was a force to be reckoned with. And not in the nice way. Even before this whole incident, it was well known of her disregard for the human life which she was supposed to protect. 

Rumours of agents ordered to find incriminating evidence and when missions turned sour, the agents handed over to their deaths instead of being protected. Rumours of the CIA forcing M's hand and taking out hits on British agents. Even M's favorite agents were not supposedly immune. 

In her many years of service, five different agents had been called her favorite. Apart from her current favorite Agent Bond, all were dead on her orders, either handed over to foreign governments or executed by other SIS agents or one memorable case where the agent in question was left to die of his injuries because M had ruled that recovering him would be a waste of time and resources.

Of course, that hadn't been in her report of the incident but it certainly made someone like Mycroft, who was trusting his brother's life to this woman, hesitant. 

Still, she didn't deserve this. This parade of the ignorant over the clever.

"It is as if you insist that we still live in a golden age of espionage, where human intelligence was the only resource available. Well I find this rather old fashioned belief demonstrates the reckless disregard for every...."

"Excuse me, Minister?" Mallory cut in, catching Dower's rant in the middle. The woman shot a glance at him. It wasn't a nice glance.

"I don't mean to interrupt but just for the sake of variety, might we actually hear from the witness?" Mallory continued, clearly caring little for Dower's hateful looks. 

From his place at the back of the hall, Mycroft smiled. Mallory had always been an interesting man. 

At his side, his assistant (She was going by Amy today. Something to do with some television show about some doctor or something. Honestly, Mycroft could care less) was playing with her phone, occasionally glancing up at the show before her but mainly choosing to ignore it in favour of whatever else she was doing. And honestly, as M rose to her feet, Mycroft wasn't at all surprised. 

Her phone chimed softly. Mycroft ignored it, listening attentively as M began her speech. As much as Downing could pretend that she had final say in this hearing, it would ultimately be Mycroft's say which would choose M's fate. 

Amy gasped.

"Sir?" She whispered, trying to gain her employers attention. Mycroft held up his hand, signalling her to remain silent. But she refused to be ignored.

"Sir, it's your brother." 

"Tell Sherlock I said no." Mycroft hissed back, trying to hear every work from M.

"It's not from Sherlock sir." Amy said. 

For the first time, Mycroft noticed a slight tremor of worry in her voice. He looked over at her, studying her face. Slowly, he held out his hand for the phone.

Looking down, he read the message.

_'The hearing is about to be attacked by terrorists. Get out now! QH'_

Mycroft looked up. M had started reciting some sort of poem, as if this would somehow prove her case. Around her, people watched. None of them seemed to realise they could be in danger. And why should they? Police guarded all the entrances. 

But Quentin would never have sent this message unless it was serious. 

Mycroft made his choice.

"Call the driver. We will meet him outside." He said. 

Amy grabbed her phone and made to rise. The back door opened, a policeman walking though. 

Mycroft noted the dark uniform, the blond hair and blue eyes. He noted the gun. After a seconds decision, he reached across, grabbing Amy's shoulder and pushing her to the floor as someone screamed. 

A shot was fired and as the screaming started in earnest, Mycroft ducked down to the relative safety of the seat as the policeman closest to him was gunned down, dropping in front of Amy. The young woman gave a whimper of fear and hid her face from the scene. 

More shots sounded, this time from the wrong direction. Risking his very life, Mycroft rose to look over the wooden benches. At the other end of the hall, a blond haired man, an agent in a grey suit fired rapidly at the policeman before ducking behind a door frame. Another agent, this one a woman, was also firing from her place hidden behind a table. 

As Mycroft watched, Mallory rose to his feet. There was blood on his suit, which he ignored, as he grabbed a gun and raised it, firing towards the attackers as he ran towards the other door frame. 

The male agent ducked out, drawing the fire long enough for Mallory to take cover before returning to the safety of the door frame. 

Lowering himself to safety once more, Mycroft reached for the phone again. He opened Quentin's message and started to type.

_'Unfortunately dear Brother, the warning came too late. MH'_

_'That's vexing. Can you get out? QH.'_

Mycroft shook his head. Somewhere above him, thick white gas filled the air. More shots were fired. 

_'Unlikely. Hopefully they aren't planning to take hostages. MH'_ Mycroft replied. 

There was a pause. The blond policeman fired rapidly into the smoke but he seemed lost, as if he didn't know where to shoot next.

_'I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. You are too big to take hostage. QH'_

Mycroft rolled his eyes as above him, the policeman turned away.

_'Is that a weight joke, little brother?'_ He sent. 

_'In my defence, Sherlock says worse. QH'_ was the reply.

The gas started to disappear. There were no longer any sounds of gun fire. It looked like it was over. People started staggering towards the exits, trying to get out of the room as fast as possible.

_'It's over. Join me for dinner tonight? I will bribe Sherlock to join us. MH'_ Mycroft typed as he grabbed Amy's arm and helped the shaking girl to her feet.

The reply came almost immediately, as if Quentin had been expecting the offer and prepared his reply.

_'Can't. I am going to be working. Maybe later. QH.'_

_'Understandable. Take care of yourself little brother. MH'_

_'I will. And Mycroft...Stay safe. QH'_

Mycroft slipped the phone into his pocket and turned to help his assistant outside as paramedics rushed through the door, looking for the victims who were too injured to make it outside themselves. M stumbled past, guided outside by her assistant.

Stepping outside into the cool afternoon air, Mycroft looked around at the scene before him. Police surrounded the building, trying to control the situation even as the victims cowered from them, suddenly untrusting of the police. Dressed in plain clothes and trying to direct the chaos was Greg Lestrade, a well trusted informant of Mycroft's and a decent policeman. 

A paramedic walked past them, guiding Gareth Mallory. The other man was covered in blood, the source of which probably from under the piece of padding pressed to his shoulder but he still paused to nod at Mycroft. A show of respect. Mycroft returned the gesture. Mallory would go far. Mycroft would make sure of that. 

Speaking of which....

Mycroft glanced around, looking for the head of MI6 but M was gone. 

A feeling swept over the oldest Holmes. A feeling of worry. He didn't know why but for some reason he felt like he was never going to see the woman again. 

But feelings were feelings and Mycroft was too practical to let his feelings rule him. 

What happens will happen and Mycroft will just have to deal with it. He only hoped that his baby brother wouldn't be caught in the middle.


End file.
